


Late Night Talks

by Anonymous



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Late night talks, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-21 15:59:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14288418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A collection of late night talks between Boone and my female courier, Bunny.





	1. Haven’t You Been in Love?

# Haven't you been in love?

"Home again, home again!" The redhead grinned, throwing herself from the ladder to the bed that sat snugly below. The home she spoke of was so small, Boone wondered how she managed. It wasn't possible for it be any bigger than a hundred square feet at best, and with all the junk she had crammed in there? Even smaller. A full size bed, a little wardrobe, a stove labeled "SCIENCE LAB" in big blocky letters, the casino posters, the neon, and god knows what else she'd managed to decorate with cluttered the place.

"Kick yer shoes off, Boone! We're takin' a load off tonight." She grinned at him, her mud-caked heels having already found themselves on the floor.

"Alright then. You are in charge." He muttered, half to himself. Sitting on the edge of the bed he pried a shoe off, eyes flicking to the ceiling. There was one single lightbulb, obscured by a string of colorful letters hanging from the ceiling. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" The letters read. "How can you sleep here? There's no way the strip ever quiets down, you gotta be able to hear all that at night."

"It's relaxing. I can't sleep without some kinda hustle and bustle." Boone's other shoe hit the ground, his eyes over his shoulders at her. She'd closed her eyes and gotten a dopey smile across her lips. "Reminds me that the world is still goin' on out there. Long as they keep partyin' and the bustle keeps going I know there's still a world up there."

"You a hoarder?"

"Yeah?" Her eyes blinked open, looking up at him in a way that seemed so innocent. "I ain't gonna sleep in an empty concrete hole."

Boone just shook his head. "Where do you even get this shit?"

"Find it on the job."

"What? Wandering?"

"No, working as a courier."

He stared at a Sierra Madre poster, one that had a woman in a long black gown posing in a way that looked otherworldly. "You get this much junk from delivering mail?"

"Being a mailman pays. People pay how they can, and I take what I get." Bunny shrugged, her red lips pursed. "You ever get lonely, Boone?"

He'd stood up, putting his rifle down by the locker labeled as an armory. "'Course I do. Have been since I lost my wife."

"What was it like?" He couldn't look at her. Couldn't. "Being in love?"

"You oughta know by now."

"Mm-mn" she grunted. "I ain't loved anyone. Not yet anyways."

"It was like winning at roulette. You like roulette."

"I love roulette!" He didn't have to look behind him to see that wicked grin on her face.

"You'd have the shittiest odds, but win anyways. I've done some hard things. Bad things. She was always there though." The radio on the cement brick nightstand was playing love songs. It usually did. "Couldn't lose if I had her. She made the world home."

"I've only ever been with a robot." She mused, and that made him turn around.

"What?"

"Oh yeah, and the goddamn son of a bitch that put a bullet in my head." Her fingers went to the scar, rubbing at the rough ridges that had formed along her forehead. "That was just to get close enough the pay him back, though. I've never been so happy to cut a man's throat open. Blood was everywhere, and I still have stains on my dress from it."

Boone suddenly felt different about the raggedy pink dress she always wore.

"But, he don't really count. Neither does Fisto. A robot can't love you, and neither can a motherfucker that doesn't have a second thought about murdering you."

"Sometimes you do good. Other times I'm not so sure." Boone thought for a moment, not sure what to make of her.

"I ain't good, and I ain't bad either. I'm just Bunny," the woman let out a deep, heavy sigh from her chest. "And Bunny takes care of Bunny. Good and bad's for other people, and I'm just a mailman."

There wasn't anything Boone could say to that. He just nodded, taking a bottle of whiskey from the shelf.

"But, no. I don't know what being in love is like. Mailman is a lonely job." Bunny lit a cigarette, bringing it to her ruby lips.

Boone wasn't expecting the words that left his lips. "Not so lonely. You got me."

"Ah, you know what I mean. Lonely in a different way. Ain't anybody around to hold me at night, you know? That's what couples do, ain't it? Hold each other cause nights are less lonely that way." She'd put her cigarette down and turned to face the poster covered wall, arms wrapped around herself.

"Whiskey?" He offered, unsure of what to do at the moment.

"No," she spoke softer now. "Maybe later."

Boone poured himself a glass, keeping quiet. Bunny didn't say anything, and it was rare for her to be this quiet. Sipping from the glass he watched her, waiting for her to bounce up and resume her normal amount of energy, but she didn't. After some thought the glass found itself next to Bunny's partially lit cigarette, and he climbed in bed behind her. His arm wrapped around her midsection and pulled her close, her body against his. It almost pained him to hold someone else like this, but with her it was different. Bunny was different, and she wasn't anything like Carla. Could never take Carla's place. Bunny was Bunny, and you couldn't substitute her for someone else.

What made Boone anxious was he could feel her heartbeat pulse through her stomach, and her heart was racing. Then she turned her head to look at him, face flushed red as her lips. Even the tips of her ears had turned scarlet. "Boone?"

"Yeah, Bunny?" He answered.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?"

"Yeah, Bunny." He answered again, his voice only a whisper. 

So she did, and it was blissful. His lips soft and gentle, a stark contrast the stony attitude he exuded most of the time. 

After the kiss, there were no words to be said. So they said none. Instead they laid there in peaceful silence, listening to the world above. For the first time in a while Boone felt like he could stand to be a part of that world. 


	2. Tears and Fears

#  Tears and Fears 

The radio was playing love songs, as it usually did. It drove him crazy, the love sick tunes just driving in the cold, hard blade of having lost his wife. Why the courier insisted on listening to them so constantly was beyond him. As far as Boone knew she didn't have anyone she was involved with.  
  
"Can't you turn that shit off?" He scoffed, his nose wrinkling in distaste. It burned to remember how alone he was.  
  
His companion scoffed back at him, shooting a glare in his direction. "Anyone ever tell you you're nothin' but a Debbie-downer?"  
  
"Don't care. Turn it off."  
  
She took a long swig from her bottle of whiskey, turning her face from him after. "I can't control what plays on the radio."  
  
"No," Boone gritted his teeth a little. "But you can turn it off."  
  
"Fine, but don't start thinkin' you can just bark orders at me like some dog." The radio snapped off as her palm came down heavy on the power switch.  
  
That red-head was grating on his nerves, and his patience wearing thin. "I think you've had enough."  
  
"I haven't even drank that much." She hissed, still not facing him. He could only imagine the kind of cruel glare the made up her expression at the moment. "Just shut up and we can fuckin' go to sleep."  
  
Now that; that he was fine with. She laid down on the bed with her back to him, and he sprawled across the couch he'd planned to sleep on. They'd crashed in some little home she'd made under a collapsed bridge, full of junk just like everywhere else she stayed. How she amassed so much junk and how she even got it underneath this bridge was beyond him. Regardless, she had built a rather nice home there. It was cozy for a little hole in the wall in the middle of a desert.  
  
Just as he'd resigned himself to peace Boone heard it. It being what just might have been the softest sob he'd ever heard, followed by a bit of a sniffle. He turned his head to look at her, but her back was still to him.  
  
“Hey, you okay?”  
  
He waited for an answer, and, moments later, it came. “I’m fine.” Her voice sounded fairly steady, albeit a tad weak. He doubted she was actually fine. Something was getting at her, and it was bothering her enough to actually worry him. He’d seen her upset before, but usually it was loudmouthed swearing while she unloaded a clip of ammo into the nearest cactus, or gecko, if she could find one. Bunny was an angry crier, though Boone couldn’t tell if she cried because she was angry, or angry because she was crying, but usually when Bunny found herself in tears there was anger along with it.  
  
This time, though? She didn’t seem the least bit angry. Something about her was just so pitiful at the moment, and it was pitiful enough to pull Boone up off the couch and over to her bedside. He sat down, back resting against the nightstand, and asked the only thing he could.  
  
“Mind telling me what you’re crying over?”  
  
“Yeah, I mind.” He couldn’t have been less surprised.  
  
“All that prying about my wife and I, and you’re just as tightlipped. “  
  
“I’m scared okay? Scared I’m gonna die one day without ever knowing love and there ain’t anything I can do about it.”  
  
Boone felt for her, he didn’t know the exact feeling but he remembered how he used to worry something might happen and Carla ending up alone, and he knew loneliness now better than ever.  
  
But what could he say? He was already a man of few words, and fewer came to mind in the moment. Instead he simply reached up, silently placing a hand on her shoulder. He could feel her body heaving with sobs, her breaths ragged and hard.  
  
“I know I flirt with people left an’ right, but I don’t feel anything for any of them. Not really. It’s always to get something. It’s all fake. An act. None of it’s even real.” Her sobbing only worsened, and the sniper felt they had to say something. “An’ no one even really cares about me.”  
  
“Bunny,” Boone began, but still struggle to find the words.  
  
“What?” The courier’s voice just sounded so broken, so pained.  
  
A moment more of silence came and went, then Boone spoke again, squeezing her shoulder. “I care about you. And I’m here.”  
  
Her hand went to his and Bunny found herself lacing her fingers between his. “Thank ya, Boone. Means a lot to me.”  
  
“I know.” He said, pressing his lips into a fine line. “Let’s get some sleep.”  
  
“Yeah, okay.” She didn’t let go of his hand. It made him feel sorry to go lie on the couch now, but he did. He wondered what she’d say in the morning, or if they would pretend nothing had happened. Boone could only imagine the latter.


End file.
